


Shoreline

by dazzler



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M, Vacation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:47:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9141589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dazzler/pseuds/dazzler
Summary: Thancred takes on his most difficult mission yet: escorting one Emmanellain Fortemps on a visit to his family's vacation home in La Noscea.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> im drunk take this

_To the Scion Thancred,_

_My great uncle passed away some five summers ago, leaving my family an adequate estate on the isle of Vylbrand. Father has known about this property for some time, but due to the state of things we have been unable to visit._

_With the war ending and the opening of Ishgard’s gates, I have been tasked with going to appraise its value and decide on possible uses for it-- however, none of the family have visited in some time. I asked the Warrior of Light if she would act as my guide, but she recommended you, as you are familiar with the area and have nothing better to do at the moment._

_Perhaps we can take this chance to know one another in a more personal manner. Although we got off on the wrong foot at the conference, I have known you since to be a man of great courage and skill._

_You have my gratitude in advance._

_Yours,_

_Lord Emmanellain de Fortemps_

\--

“I can't just go gallivanting off with some nobleman’s whelp,” said Thancred. He slammed the rose-scented envelope down on the bar with enough force to make F'lhaminn shoot him a chastising look. “And that is final.”

“Why not?” K’milla crossed her arms, tail thrashing behind her. “It would be good for you to take some time to rest and not throw yourself into work again. The others can help handle Scion business while you’re away. Besides, Y’shtola told me you still haven’t fully recovered from your injuries during the fight with the warriors.”

“Traitorous conjurer,” Thancred said under his breath.

K’milla sighed. “Emmanellain is so excited about seeing La Noscea, Thancred. He’s like a younger brother to me, and I don’t want to disappoint him, but sending him on his own is a very bad idea.”

“Why did you tell him I had nothing better to do,” he said, slumping over and burying his face in his hands.

“Stop sulking,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “It's only for a week. Think of it as a nice vacation.”

\--

The ship dropped them not far from Bloodshore, the weather inconsiderately cheerful. Thancred scowled up at the cloudless sky as he dragged Emmanellain’s luggage across the planks.

Brimming with childish excitement, Emmanellain ran up to the edge of the dock and bent to splash his hands in the water. “Fury, I haven’t been swimming in ages!”

Thancred paused. “You can swim?”

“I was nineteen when the Calamity happened, that was plenty of time to learn,” said Emmanellain, rolling his eyes.

Nineteen. Gods, Thancred felt old. He had memories of bonfires along this very beach where he sometimes caroused until dawn. He was a guttersnipe of a boy then, and if no one recognized him during his stay with Emmanellain, it would be no small relief.

“I’ll have to write to Honoroit. I doubt he remembers when Coerthan summers were beautiful and warm like this.”

“I’m surprised he didn't join us.”

“He wished to stay with his little sweetheart for the holiday,” Emmanellain said, chuckling. “You and I are on our own, old boy.”

\--

A mansion perched high on the cliffs came into view, at least comparable in size to the Fortemps estate, though La Noscean in style, with whitewashed brick and rounded columns supporting a sloping blue roof.

“Oh, how magnificent!” Emmanellain clapped his hands in delight.

After fitting an ancient iron key into the front door, it took Thancred some amount of pushing and pulling before it finally creaked open. The two of them crossed the threshold into the main hall. Its grandeur had faded over the years-- tattered curtains hung from the windows, and the brass chandelier overhead had grown dull with age.

“Somehow I expected it to be more…” Emmanellain said, face falling. “The years have not been kind, I suppose.”  
He began to rush from room to room, stirring up clouds of dust. Thancred trailed after him, wondering if a band of qiqirins could have taken up residence somewhere in the house, and, in the event that they attacked Emmanellain, if he would be released from his service.

The master bedroom was surprisingly intact.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Emmanellain opened the shutters, letting the bright La Noscean sun stream in.

Thancred tossed Emmanellain’s luggage on the bed and uttered a curse, a dull pain shooting through his shoulder. During the fight with the Warriors of Darkness, he had taken a blow from the Roegadyn man’s shield, and he had yet to regain his full range of motion.

“The heat is unbearable, though... To think I packed all those coats! I must go shopping.” Emmanellain turned on him. “Where will you stay?”

“‘Cross the hall,” he muttered, massaging at his shoulder.

“Hm?” Emmanellain blinked at him. “Are you alright?”

“Splendid,” said Thancred, straightening up. “We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

\--

An hour later, and Thancred found himself perched near the Bloodshore aetheryte, one leg crossed over the other, bouncing his foot against his knee. He had yet to be gone a day, but he was already restless, his thoughts with K’milla and the rest of the Scions. And here he was--

“Is it supposed to be this short?” Emmanellain’s voice came from inside the changing tent.

“Are you wearing it correctly?” Thancred asked. The shopkeep standing nearby smirked. Thancred ignored him. “Come out and show me.”

Emmanellain emerged in naught but a colorful waist wrap. To help with the harsh sun, he had tied his long hair up in a bun, loose strands clinging to the back of his neck.

“I daresay I am unused to such revealing clothing,” he said, turning this way and that to look down at himself.

Though long of limb as Elezen were wont to be, he had the soft body of a noble, and freckles dusted the tops of his shoulders. The drape of the cloth fell to the middle of his thighs.

Thancred felt an unexpected stir, which he immediately attributed to too many nights spent on his own in the wilderness-- the notion of being attracted to Emmanellain was too mortifying to entertain otherwise. To say nothing of the fact that at the moment, Emmanellain was his employer.

He cleared his throat. “Perhaps the pants, then.”

Oblivious to his escort’s inner turmoil, Emmanellain took several billowy pairs of pants and short vests to the shopkeep to wrap for him.

“Where to next?” he asked Thancred, who himself had begun to sweat beneath his leather trappings.

“We could find some food if you’d like.”

“Wine?” Emmanellain perked up. “I’ve heard tales of the famous Eastern La Noscean vintage.”

To be certain, it was a bad idea, but after what had just happened Thancred felt a pressing need to drink something. He set out in the direction of the shore’s wine merchant, Emmanellain following after him.

“The industry suffered in the Calamity, but it’s been making a comeback in recent years,” he told him. “Hopefully you’ll find it passable.”

Emmanellain snorted. “It’s not as though I have aught to compare it to.”

The trip through the market was more enjoyable, with Emmanellain being charmingly curious about all manner of foreign fruits and vegetables. Thancred pointed out one of his favorite local delicacies, a red leather-skinned fruit with a sweet middle, and Emmanellain insisted on trying it for himself, spilling juice all over his chin in the process.

The sun had almost set by the time they arrived back at the mansion, and they found the old building let in a draft. Thancred stored the food they’d bought in the kitchens, then worked on lighting a fire in the drawing room, although it had smoked so badly at first that he had to open all the windows.

When he’d managed to disperse the black cloud that had issued from the hearth, he poured them both glasses of wine. Emmanellain dragged a pile of blankets in front of the fire and curled up to work on his letter to Honoroit while Thancred took a seat in the armchair nearest him.

“The creature we saw at the market earlier-- an apkallu?”

“Mm,” said Thancred. He shucked his boots and propped his feet up on the chair’s armrest, closing his eyes. The young noble was so very ignorant about the world outside of Ishgard.

The wine filled Thancred with a sluggish heat and he began to doze off. He almost didn’t hear Emmanellain speaking quietly, as it to himself.

“You know, when I met you at the conference, you were different than I imagined.”

Thancred cracked an eye open. “How so?”

“I heard you had a silver tongue,” said Emmanellain.

“K’milla told me you charmed countless men and women with it. I thought we might be kindred spirits.”

Thancred allowed himself a small smile. “And then I struck you across the face.”

“I hit you first,” Emmanellain pointed out. “Nevertheless, I must admit I was less than charmed.”

“I’m surprised your brother didn’t try to fight me for your honor. Tell me, is he always such a prig?”

Emmanellain laughed, but the sound was oddly hollow.

“I’m afraid so. Haurchefant might have, but Artoirel is nothing like him.”

“Haurchefant,” Thancred repeated, trying to place the name-- K’milla’s dear friend, who had fallen at the hands of one of the Archbishop’s men.

A silence followed, where the only sound was the crackling of the fire and his own wine-quickened pulse beating in his ears.

“It's not fair,” said Emmanellain, and a tightness had crept into his voice.

“Listen, back at the conference--”

“You were an ass,” said Emmanellain flatly.

“Nothing I haven't, ah--” Thancred struggled to a seated position, wincing as he did so. Emmanellain sat up as well, watching him.

“This was hurting you earlier, wasn't it?” he said, laying a hand on Thancred’s arm. “We should take you to a healer."

Gods, he couldn’t bear Emmanellain looking at him like that, all wide-eyed and biting his lip like he was the one to be pitied.

“Just an old wound acting up,” he said, pulling away. Another lance of pain went through his shoulder and he gritted his teeth. “I’d wager it’s the change in climate.”

“If you say so.” Emmanellain turned back to his letter, his hair falling in front of his face and hiding his expression from Thancred's view.

Thancred settled back against the armchair, feeling utterly morose.

Only a week, she said-- but oh, what a long week it would be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the lovely comments, please have more of my trash fire otp

Thancred groaned, his head pounding. Wine always did this to him, why did he think to indulge Emmanellain--

“Emmanellain?” he said groggily, yanking the covers up to preserve what little privacy he could. 

“Good morning, old boy!” Chipper as ever, Emmanellain hummed as he flitted about the room, jotting notes in a little book. “I’ve already been through most of the house and taken inventory of the furniture. I imagine pirates made off with a good deal of it,” he said, examining the list with a frown. 

Thancred dragged himself downstairs and into the kitchen, Emmanellain following and chattering the whole way.

“I was hoping you could get me in contact with some decorators or merchants who could help furnish the place.”

“Pass me that knife.”

“Oh-- here. Do you know of anyone in the area?” 

“No,” said Thancred, picking up a hunk of bread and slathering it with jam. “No, I do not.”

_ Although I could probably get you in contact with the thieves who made off with your cabinets. Not that they’d be happy to see me.  _

“A cleaning service, then.”

Thancred shook his head. 

“You’re not much of an early riser, are you?” 

He took a bite of bread and shrugged, chewing slowly. 

Emmanellain set his list down on the kitchen counter. “Tonight we should go out,” he announced. “I’m eager to meet the local La Noscean beauties. You can introduce me.”

“Perhaps one of them knows about furniture,” Thancred said under his breath. 

\--

When Thancred arrived at The Flying Shark, Emmanellain was already surrounded by a group of strangely clad miqo’te having drinks in one of the cabanas. A travelling dance troupe, he guessed from their appearance.

“Ishgard?” one of them, a Sunseeker, said as his tail curled its way around Emmanellain’s waist. “Why, we’ve never visited! Is it true that Ishgardian lovers--” and here his voice dropped to a whisper that Thancred purposefully did not bother to decipher.

Emmanellain giggled. Noticing Thancred, he waved him over to their spot at the bar. “I’d like to introduce my dear friend Thancred. He’s taking care of me on our trip.” 

“Good evening,” said Thancred stiffly. 

Emmanellain began to pull up a seat, but Thancred shook his head. “I’ll keep watch while you eat.”

A titter went through the group as the miqo’te peered over and began to assess his relative handsomeness. 

“What?” said Emmanellain. “Oh no,” he laughed a little too loudly, “not like that.” 

Thancred rested his elbows on the cabana railings and glared out at the dark water, heat prickling the back of his neck.

As he listened to the group banter and flirt, making contingency plans should one or more accompany Emmanellain home, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder what Emmanellain would be like in bed. Surely he wasn’t as good a lay as he made himself out to be. Selfish, undoubtedly, caring naught for his partner’s pleasure… 

Thancred could picture it with a discomfiting clarity, Emmanellain on his back, pink-cheeked and demanding-- he shook his head, taking a gulp of salty air and turning his thoughts to more sobering topics.

\--

“Emmanellain?”

“Hm?”

“The hour grows late. We should return to the manor.” 

Emmanellain stood and stretched, then turned to the dancer he’d been talking to and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “Looks as though my chaperone needs me.” 

One of the miqo’te went on tip-toe to press a lingering kiss to Emmanellain’s cheek. She winked at Thancred over his shoulder. 

“Come along,” Thancred said, crossing his arms. 

Emmanellain said a few more drawn-out goodbyes before following him out of the cabana. 

“What a delightful group,” he said with a tipsy sigh.

Thancred caught him by the shoulder when he went to move ahead. “Pray, remain close. Thieves prey on unsuspecting party-goers this time of night.” 

Emmanellain’s eyes widened comically. “I don’t fancy running afoul of such unsavory characters.”

“Should anything happen, I can protect you, but I’d rather not risk it.”

“Ooh, my hero.” Emmanellain gave him a sidelong glance, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

Thancred cleared his throat, taking his hand off Emmanellain’s shoulder. “That’s just what I was hired for.”

The night was dark, the moon a thin crescent overhead as the two of them made their way along the beach toward the estate. Emmanellain walked a little too close and kept bumping into his side.

“Tell me, how are you enjoying Costa del Sol?” he asked.

“I knew this place as Bloodshore. Only tourists call it that.”

“I can see why they changed it,” said Emmanellain, making a face.

“It was overrun with more vicious beasts back then.” 

Emmanellain laughed, and Thancred had the fleeting thought that it was a rather pleasant sound. “No one you would care to visit while you’re in the area? Family or old flames.”

“I fled this place barely past childhood, with more enemies than friends.” What the hells was he doing, telling Emmanellain things he had not spoken of to anyone in years? “It’s not as sordid as it sounds,” he added quickly. “It just… is.”

The two of them made their stumbling way back to the manor. Thancred was quite ready to part for the night when Emmanellain turned on him in the dark foyer. 

“Tonight wasn’t all bad, was it?” he asked.

“No need to worry that pretty head of yours for my well-being,” said Thancred.

Emmanellain grinned. “So you do think I’m pretty.” 

“It’s a figure of speech.” 

“I  _ have  _ noticed how you look at me,” Emmanellain said. “Like you want to pin me to the nearest surface and swive me senseless. I’m not completely oblivious.” 

“Is that so?” said Thancred. “My, you have a high opinion of yourself.”

“We were surrounded by all of those beautiful dancers and you couldn’t keep your eyes off me.” 

“I’m supposed to be watching you to see that you don’t end up dead on a beach somewhere,” he said, arching an eyebrow. “I’m not certain you’re aware, but La Noscea is full of pirates and scoundrels who would like nothing better than to--"  Thancred trailed off. 

Emmanellain tilted his head and lifted a hand to card his fingers through Thancred’s hair.  “Kiss me?” He reached out to smooth the collar of Thancred’s vest. “I’m not that drunk, you know.” 

“Are you making fun of me?”

Emmanellain blinked. “Not at all, I merely thought-- you wanted--” 

“What I want is to go to bed,” said Thancred. “Let’s just agree to forget about this in the morning.”

With that, he pushed past Emmanellain and retreated upstairs to his temporary room, leaving the young lord standing alone in the entryway.


End file.
